


you're that 'nothing' when people ask me what i'm thinking about

by VVCaspian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, FTM Ron Weasley, M/M, Pining, Rare Pairings, Rare Plants, Theatre class, Trans Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-03-20 03:36:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18984433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVCaspian/pseuds/VVCaspian
Summary: Neville is [having a tough time] in college, and Draco's his [obnoxiously perfect] roommate.





	1. green eyed

**green eyed**

 

\-----

 

Neville was generally a poised person, however clumsy he might be when in the presence of his favourite band, and gave respect to those who he didn’t know or those who deserved respect. Draco Malfoy fell somewhere in between the two, and Neville really wanted to spit on the other man’s face. 

 

Although he’d seen Malfoy at his weakest, worst, nicest, attractivest, and angriest, nothing irked him more than the other’s current behavior towards the new, green-eyed freshman. 

 

He intervened, purposefully pushing Malfoy to the side. “Hi, um could you help me find my geode paperweight?” 

 

“Of course!” piped up the young woman who was standing next to the freshman. “Harry, come on,” she pulled his arm, directing his gaze away from.. somewhere, Neville couldn’t tell with the sheen on the glasses. 

 

“Guys wait!” came a heavy New Jersey accent. Neville winced. A redhead came into view, curls pulled away from the face with a butterfly beret. They seemed to be wearing tight jeans that showed off their evident masculinity, which contrasted with their feminine blouse and the tint on their lips. “I- can’t-” they seemed to also be carrying a large amount of confectionaries from the coffee shop. “ _ Ah- _ ” 

 

The redhead tripped. It was like Neville was watching in slow motion, the widening blue eyes, the donut tumbling out of a bag. In almost an instant, he caught the bag with his foot, and caught the redhead with his arms. 

 

“Um, sorry?” the redhead squeaked, tall and lanky, if not the same as Neville himself. He picked himself out of Neville’s arms and reached for the confectionaries, back arched in the way only males balanced themselves. “I’m Ron, he/him, nice to meet you!” 

 

And then Ron ran off. From his spot, Neville could pick up the vague sentence of ‘ _ Mione I did it! I introduced myself like I wanted to and…’ _ . 

 

“Wh-” Malfoy sputtered. “Your geode is at  _ home _ , you freaking- they freaking left-  _ ugh I hate you. _ ” 

 

“No you don’t,” Neville snickered. “Don’t overwhelm the young children just yet, they’ll be terrified all about your royal posterior.” 

 

“Oh shut  _ up _ , Longbottom.”

  
  


Neville pulled out a recorder and waited for Professor Snape to enter the classroom to start the recording. Several seats to his left, he saw the three new students he’d met that morning, Ron, ‘Mione’, and the freshman Malfoy’d been ragging. 

 

Malfoy pouted audibly next to him. “The green eyed one was so  _ pretty _ ,” he whined. “I was gonna bed him.”

 

“Oh I’m so sorry for saving- sorry, preventing the freshman from being bedded by the likes of you.” Neville glanced at the slowly filling auditorium before going back to absentmindedly fiddling with his phone. “Did you even get his name?”

 

“His name was Harry Potter,” Malfoy commented. “Devastatingly boring, but the person himself is anything  _ but _ .” 

  
Neville would have choked on water, had he been drinking it. “Harry Potter. The next-in-line for Sleekeazy’s?”

 

Malfoy’s head rose up. “Ah, I thought I recognized his name.” 

 

Suddenly, a hush came through the room. Malfoy’s mouth shut as if he was commanded to and their attention shifted towards the front of the room. Snape’s eyes made quick and intense eye contact with everyone’s as he walked to his podium. The freshman from earlier blushed when Snape’s eyes met his. Neville sighed to himself. It appeared as if the freshman would be hopelessly crushed in this course. 

 

“This is going to be the first and only time I’m taking roll for this semester, and when I call your name, I’d like for you to introduce yourselves,” Snape drawled softly, words hitting every edge of the room. Neville tuned out until a name caught his attention. 

 

“Hermione Granger,” Snape said. 

 

The ‘Mione’ from earlier spoke, “Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. I’m eighteen and I specialize in duologues.”

 

After she sat down, the redhead next to her-  _ Ron _ , Neville reminded himself- prompted her to shove his side goodnaturedly. 

 

Soon, Neville’s name was called. Pulled out of a blissfully short dream about One Direction, he immediately said ‘Here’, without remembering the instructions. “...and I’m queer. My name’s Neville.”

 

It was a  _ very _ smooth save, and even Snape had let out a breath of laughter at that. 

 

“Draco Malfoy,” Snape said, annoyance already evident in his tone. Malfoy smirked.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s pronounced Leig, with an ‘I’. The  _ ‘Draco Malfoy’  _ is silent.”

 

It shouldn’t have been funny, but something cracked in the atmosphere and everyone just started  _ laughing _ .

 

Snape’s loud cough silenced everyone almost immediately. His eyes narrowed. “Carmen Nepven…”

 

Neville’s gaze shifted to Malfoy. Or, to be more accurate, his smiling mouth.

 

“Harry Potter,” came suddenly, making Neville snap out of his glance-turned-stare. 

 

“Hi, I’m Harry, I’m nineteen, and I have this cool scar on the back of my knee of a lightning bolt,” he said, stammering his way through the last piece of information.

 

“And how exactly, Mr. Potter, is that relevant to this class?” Snape sneered, pulling a chuckle out of his students who had a sense of darker humor. “Jessica Quell,” he went on, not even letting Potter answer.

 

More students’ names were called out, of which he recognized around half of. Then, “I’m sorry, is it Ronald or Veronica?”

 

“It’s Ron,” Ron smiled, dimples shocking everyone. “I identify as a seventeen year old human male, and I enjoy indulging in culinary and confectionery consumption.”

 

Ron made eating sound like an activity. Wow. Neville really wanted to be the other’s friend right then.

 

“Okay, it seems as though that was the last person on my list of thirty four,” Snape said, only to be suddenly interrupted by a clattering of what sounded like stationary. 

 

Everyone’s eyes turned to a flushing Potter.

 

“Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled. “What famous speech can be recognized at Act III, Scene I, of Hamlet?”

 

Potter startled. His glasses slid down his nose. “Um-”

 

“If you’re unable to answer that, than can you at least tell the class what is Shakespeare’s most recognized tragedy?” 

 

“It’s-”

 

Snape sneered. “Pay attention in class, you’re lucky your grade doesn’t get affected by your current incompetence.” 

 

Neville sighed from his seat. It seemed that Potter needed to know how to hold for himself if he wanted to survive in this course. 

 


	2. red wine

Potter seemed to be the talk of the campus the first week back. And the second week. And the third week. It was the third week.

 

Neville couldn’t go a day without Malfoy complaining about something Harry Potter did, or worse, Malfoy _mooning_ over Potter’s “oh so delectable” arse. It was like dealing with a thirteen year old teenaged girl, as a thirteen year old teenaged boy.

 

Today seemed to be a day of the latter type. “Have you _seen_ the way his eyes look like in the sunlight? So pretty. And his smile is so cute, especially with those cute little front teeth that you can _barely_ see. And his arms, my god, I want him to-”

 

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Neville simply couldn’t stand it any longer. “Can you please take your fawning somewhere else? Don’t you have a hoard of followers ready to chant hymns about you? If you mention _one more fucking world about his fucking perfect teeth or his eyes I will not regret whatever happens afterwards_.” With each phrase, Neville stalked towards Malfoy, hands gesturing wildly but sharply. Once he finished his tangent, they were in an odd position, Malfoy’s lower back pressed to the counter top and Neville’s socked feet almost brushing the tips of Malfoy’s feet due to their closeness.

 

Neville whirled away, thankful for the sudden silence that came upon Malfoy’s voice. He went back to where his work was on the dining table and continued his analysis of Scout from _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , which was six hundred seventy two words short of being done.

  


“So, Nev, did you hear about the party?” Luna said, weaving what seemed to be jasmine flowers into a garland. “Harry’s holding it and he invited a couple people.”

 

“Oh yeah, I know,” Neville said. He stepped to the side, avoiding a rock. “He invited me and said I could bring a plus one.”

 

“Oh that’s nice! Are you going to bring Draco?”

 

“Why on earth would I do that?”

 

“Wait, you guys aren’t together?”

 

“... Luna, what even prompted you to believe that?”

 

“Well, you make his lunch everyday, and he looks at you a certain way,” Luna said, tying the knot on the string that bound the flowers together. She snapped the string with her teeth and set the spool aside, picking up the garland and arranging it in her hair. “It’s obvious to one who looks.”

 

“Pff- you’re joking. We are literally the _definition_ of acquaintances, and yes, I might be in love with him, but he doesn’t show _any_ interest in me, instead he chooses to ramble on about Potter’s _‘wonderful eyes’_ and his _prettiness_. It’s kind of frustrating, Luna,” Neville sighed. Then, he sighed again, trying to fill up his empty-feeling lungs.

 

“Besides that,” Neville started. “Who did you pick from the book to analyze?”

 

“Oh, me? I picked Boo Radley,” Luna said, her airy voice filling the space as she went on a soft-spoken tangent about his mind through the story.

  


“Mr. Longbottom, I would like it if you stayed back a bit for class.” Neville looked up to meet the eyes of Snape.

 

“Of course, Professor,” Neville said. From his peripheral, Neville could see Potter shooting them glances.

 

Once the class cleared out, Snape said, “There is a performance coming up.”

 

Neville nodded.

 

“You will be required to act as a main.”

 

“I.. I am aware.”

 

“You can _not_ skip out like last time, do you understand me?”

 

“Yes, professor.”

 

“Thank you,” Snape concluded. “You are dismissed.”

  


“Guess who’s fucking screwed,” Neville said, bursting in through the front door. He resignedly threw his backpack onto the loveseat and flopped on the large armchair.

 

Malfoy looked at him, long and silent, and sipped his tea.

 

“I’m going to switch courses,” Neville concluded.

 

“That’s what you did last year,” Malfoy pointed out. “You’re lucky you got allowed back.”

 

Neville growled. “Fucking stage fright.”

 

“Is it honestly that hard to get over?”

 

“Yes? It just doesn’t ‘go away’!”

 

Malfoy snorted. “Wuss.”

 

“How,” Neville started. “Does that even get included in the context of this situation?”

 

Malfoy shrugged. “It seemed to be the appropriate thing to say.”

 

“Get dressed,” Malfoy said then. “Potter’s party is in half an hour.”

 

Neville scoffed. “How even were _you_ invited?”

 

Malfoy shrugged. “Must’ve been my charm.”

 

“Pff- right.”

 

A pause.

 

“Help me get dressed.”

  


Neville sipped his wine, swishing it around his mouth until it went a little sour before swallowing it. Potter’s party was _definitely_ not what he thought it would be like. It was like a typical charity ball- it reminded Neville of one he’d been to when he was eight- and the only thing missing seemed to be the waiters. Everything was self-serve, and it was a little strange.

 

“Is that Malbec?” Malfoy’s voice sounded. He himself seemed to be holding a glass of Reisling.

 

“You’ve got a good eye, Malfoy,” Neville smiled, taking another sip of his wine. “But it’s not good enough. I’m holding a ten day old Nero d’Avola.”

 

“Close enough,” Malfoy said. His eyes were not as nonchalant about this exchange. “You seem to be garbed in decent clothing- hoping to impress someone?”

 

Neville looked down on his clothes. Did the black blazer really look nice with the red button-up? “Have your tastes in clothing somehow changed, Malfoy?”

 

“No, I assure you,” Malfoy met his eyes. “My _tastes_ have definitely not changed.” Neville looked away, seeing Malfoy lick a drop of wine off his own lip.

 

“Neville! Mate!” Neville’s eyes flew up from his glass as a watered down New Jersey accent reached him. Ron had a dimpled smile on, and honestly, Neville wanted to do nothing more than poke the dimples.

 

“Hey Ron!” Neville smiled, letting the other hug him. It was a decently nice hug, with Ron being warm and soft in his arms. “How has it been?”

 

“It’s been going!” Ron adjusted his beret in his hair before continuing. “Been getting used to this accent between what I’ve got, what the British got, and what the Californian’s got.”

 

Neville chuckled. “I could tell.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“Oh, same old, just drowning in my studies and assignments. You?”

 

“Eh. Still getting used to this life, but I’m surprisingly not behind in anything! I guess it’s been drilled into my by my mother,” Ron shrugged. “I was wondering,” he started, red spreading over his cheeks. “If you’d like to go get a drink with me sometime?”

 

Oh.

 

This he wasn’t expecting. “Sure,” Neville said, a blush crawling up his own cheeks. “When and where w-would you like to meet?”

 

Ron grinned. “I was thinking we could meet up at the Fountains, Friday at seven?” He brushed back his hair. “The coming up Friday.”

 

“Alright, then.”

 

“Okay!” Ron smiled again. “See you then!” With that, Ron bounced off, somehow not dripping a drop of his Pinot Noir.

 

The reality of the situation caught up to him.

 

He had a _date_.


	3. black shoes

Neville was panicking. He had an essay due in thirty minutes and he’d only managed to get one third of the way through it. On top of that, it was Next Friday, and he had barely an hour to get ready for drinks with Ron.

 

A minute passed, and Neville snapped himself out of it, hurriedly typing out some crappy, but finely worded sentences and paragraphs. For now, he didn’t have time to make this perfect. He concluded the essay with a paragraph around four sentences long and submitted it, slamming his durable laptop shut.

 

He looked in his closet quickly before jumping into the shower, ready to wash out the feeling of  _ that was a really crappy essay _ from his skin. The scent of the lemon face wash filled his nose, and suddenly, he was struck by a thought. 

 

What if Ron meant for this to be as friends?

 

Neville paused.    


 

No way, Ron was acting really shy when he asked. It was totally a date.

 

Neville walked out, and pulled out his standard date outfit: black high-waisted jeans, a black polo, a beige sweater, and a pair of oxfords.

 

He quickly styled his hair, running a brush through it and then using his fingers, before pocketing his phone and wallet with a nervous sigh. 

 

He was just about to get out of the apartment when Draco said, “Don’t forget your watch, dumbass.”

 

Neville looked down at his bare wrist and mindlessly slid on his Rolex. It had been his dad’s. His heart tightened and he slipped it off, replacing it with a simple white sports watch. “Bye, Draco.”

 

A huff could be heard from the couch. He started to say something, but Neville was outside before he could finish his sentence. 

 

 

Ron looked really, truly, incredibly, cute. Neville’s eyes could barely stray from Ron’s smile, which were, by the way, cute, but he noticed that the other was dressed in a pair of coulette jeans and striped shirt. 

 

Their pizza arrived. Apparently, when Ron asked to go together for drinks, he meant a bowling alley/bar/restaurant. It was decent, and Neville flushed every time they met eyes.

 

“So, what is your most favourite play?”

 

Neville smiled. “Now that, Ron, was the best question you could have asked me.”

 

 

The date was perfect, and they were both giddy and smiley the entire damn time. However, Hermione Granger came up in the conversation more than Neville thought she was supposed to. 

 

“You’ve seen Inkheart? ‘Mione thinks that the movies suck because they don’t carry the same weight as the books, but she thinks that for  _ all _ movies.”

 

“You don’t like pineapple on pizza? I don’t get people who don’t, first it’s ‘Mione, then it’s you…”

 

“I was hanging out with my friends the other day and then ‘Mione just stood up and did the ‘To Be’ monologue. Or would it be a soliloquy? I can  _ never  _ tell the difference, I always have to ask Hermione and then I completely forget.”

 

Neville’s smile turned from fondness towards the redhead to fondness towards the relationship between Ron and Hermione.

 

Neville wasn’t too disappointed, if he was being honest. Some part of him was probably not ready for a relationship, and he had a feeling that Ron had a fleeting, if not nonexistent, crush on him. 

 

“So,” Neville grinned. “You like Hermione?”

 

Ron paled. “Um, what?”

 

Neville waved it off. “You like Hermione.”

 

Ron burrowed his head in his hands. “Oh god, what I that obvious?”

 

Neville licked his lips, pondering on how to answer that question, when he saw Ron’s eyes fixed on his lips. Neville grinned slowly, lips stretching in a coy manner. Ron’s gaze hurriedly met his, cheeks flushed.

 

“Yeah,” Neville said. 

 

 

Their lips were puffy, bitten and kiss-swollen. Ron’s hair was tangled in his fingers, curls silky in his hands. Neville deeply breathed through his nose before going back in, enjoying the taste of Ron’s tongue in his mouth.

 

Neville pushed Ron to his bed, relishing in the sweet noises being emitted from the redhead as his lips travelled down the freckled neck.

 

His hands wandered around Ron’s chest, resting on his hips. He pulled away a little. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed.

 

Ron breathed in a gasp, and swallowed before saying, “I w-want your fingers.” 

 

Neville hummed against Ron’s neck. He trailed his fingers across to Ron’s belly button. “Where?”

 

Ron squirmed a little, breathing unrhythmic. “I- in- inside me,  _ please _ !” he whined. He grabbed Neville’s hand and placed it on his groin, which was heated to Neville’s cold touch.

 

Neville unbuttoned Ron’s jeans, and was gifted with the touch of wet cloth, which sent a shudder through his body. The sheer intimacy of this act made him flush. “This good?” he asked, dragging his fingers to the center of Ron’s clit. 

 

“F-feels good, yeah,” he said. “Grind your finger down a bit, yeah?”

 

Neville did, thumbing at his clit. A rush of air exited him as a hand pressed against his erection, the pressure unfamiliar. 

 

“W- you don’ need to, um,” Neville stuttered, stomach coiling in itself, just as Ron’s fingers curled around his cock. 

 

Ron looked up at him, eyes dark and damp and clear, lashes sticking together with sweat, lips parted and pink and plump, cheeks flushed but not that much that Neville couldn’t trace the patterns of his freckles-- “ _ Let me _ ,” he said. 

 

Neville gulped and said, “Okay,” into the air in between them. Ron pushed him over so Neville was under him, gently gripping Neville’s cock like he didn’t know what to do.

 

Neville, propped up a little on his elbow, asked, “Have you done this before?” 

 

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “More or less. I’ve had sex before I, um, figured out that I’m not mentally a girl.” He paused and sat down on his heels. “I didn’t originally  _ want _ anything sexual, because I was scared of accepting that me being a guy meant that my chosen body was invalid.” A wistful look crossed his eyes. “Then I met Hermione. Gap year, cause I needed a little more money for the down payment of my apartment. Uh, I found out that we were going to the same college, and Harry, the  _ idiot _ , selected the same school as us despite getting accepted into Yale. Something about friendship or the other.

 

“And, uh,” Ron said. “I’m fine with what I have, you know? Like, my body is just as much me as my identity, and to be honest, I don’t really want a dick.” Ron’s eyes widened. “Oh fuck. I’m oversharing again.”

 

Neville chuckled. “You’re fine.” His erection had flagged down a little from the lack of attention, but he was curious. “Uh, not to make this awkward-” he totally made it awkward- “but you’re a fantastic conversation partner. Wanna, still talk?” 

 

Ron beamed. “Yeah sure! Let me just…” he trailed off, looking for his clothes.

  
  


They were dressed, Ron victoriously yelling “aha!” when he found his shirt. Neville had ordered boba tea for both of them. Which just came by a few minutes earlier. 

 

They sat sipping their tea, watching Spirited Away because Ron wanted to and Neville needed to make worth of his Netflix account anyways. Ron’s occasional comments filtered through the haze in his mind, along with snippets of dialogue and the sound of the air conditioner, until sleep took over Neville’s sight.


End file.
